


Blossom

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [49]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fluff, Gen, Logic | Logan Sanders-centric, brief mentions of fire and smoke inhalation like one line tho, fae lore, gratuitous flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-12 23:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20164663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Hazel Coughenour is very,veryold.Not quite old enough to remember Before – but old enough to wish for it.





	Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> for this prompt from a [@hemooryctolagus](hemooryctolagus.tumblr.com) over on tumblr:
> 
> "I read the thing about attracting fae and the sassafras and i imagine someone burning it (maybe on accident like they had some near a firepit and it caught flame.) And Lo and whole bunch of seelie just *appearing* and lo is mad but doesnt inherently know why but the others know why they mad (I hope i got that right)"
> 
> and inspired by [this ask](https://tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com/post/186411876750/just-so-you-know-i-absolutely-adore-all-the-posts) from [@sos-fandoms](sos-fandoms.tumblr.com)
> 
> why do i love writing ancient old crones so much??? who knows not me

One minute Logan was walking down the street, hand in hand with Roman, and the next thing he knew he was standing on the front lawn of a luridly pink house, vibrating with rage and with the scent of something acrid and _burning_ in his mouth.

“_Logan!”_ snapped Roman, and Logan turned to look at him, still shaking.

“I- what?”

Roman slumped in relief.

“You tell _me_, Specs,” he said, a little shaky, “You just took off running, and you didn’t listen when I shouted-”

He cut himself off, and Logan saw his pupils narrow as he looked over Logan’s shoulder.

“_Hey!_” he said sharply.

Logan turned.

A woman – oh, no actually, not a woman – some type of fae was standing just on the edge of the hedges, willowy and delicate and her skin a pale mint green. Her hair was a darker shade of the same, and several pixies in various shades of pastels were flitting around her head.

She cocked her head at Logan.

“This is yours?” she said.

“Yes,” he replied, though he had absolutely no idea why.

She paused, narrowing her eyes. After a moment, she shrugged, and turned to leave.

“What do you mean, yours?” said Roman incredulously, as soon as she was out of sight.

“I have no idea,” said Logan, frustrated, “I- I am incredibly agitated but I do not understand why,”

He was very nearly twitching with it, and the smell was growing stronger. It made Logan’s skin crawl, and it showed no signs of abating.

“Well, I guess it’s gotta be a Seelie thing, those were Summers if I’ve ever seen them,” said Roman, looking over the house, “This gardens pretty overgrown, but I don’t think it’s _offensive,_”

He seemed to catch sight of something around Logan, and moved to see around the corner of the house.

“What street is this?” he demanded.

“What do you-”

“Logan, _what street are we on?”_

Logan huffed, leaning out to look down at the sign on the corner.

“Maple, why?”

“Because there’s smoke in the kitchen window and this is _Hazel Coughenour’s house,_”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then sprinted to the front door.

“Mrs. Coughenour!” shouted Roman, throwing the screen open and pounding on the door, “Mrs. Coughenour, are you in there!”

Logan laid on the doorbell for several seconds, before moving to the window and cupping his hands around it.

“I can not see her but there is smoke in the kitchen,” said Logan, trying to ignore the way the sight of the smoke was making him want to gnash his teeth.

“_Mrs. Coughenour!”_

Roman groaned in frustration.

“I’m gonna have to break in aren’t I?”

He moved to come to the window, but then there was movement inside and Logan immediately began to wave his arms.

“Mrs. Coughenour, would you please open your door and vacate the house,” he called, “We believe there may be a fire, and as an elderly person you are susceptible to smoke inhalation-”

“What? What’s that? That you Larry?”

“No, ma’am, Larry’s son, Logan,”

“Larry what are you doing hovering at the window like a peepin’ Tom? Don’t make me go get your Granddad!”

Logan sighed in frustration.

“Mrs. Coughenour, _please_ open the door,”

She slowly made her way across the living room with her walker, and Logan resisted the urge to slam his head against the window in frustration as the kitchen behind her continued to fill with smoke.

She undid the knob and Roman swerved around her and made a beeline for the kitchen. Logan followed him in, and Mrs. Coughenour, who’s eyes had followed Roman, turned back to logan and immediately startled.

“Oh, hello, dearie,” she said, wrinkling her nose a little, “You don’t usually use the front door,”

Logan, who had not been in Mrs. Coughenour’s house once in his entire life, thought this was an exceedingly strange thing to say.

“Well, c’mere, this way,” she said, grabbing the sleeve of Logan’s shirt and pulling him toward the kitchen.

“Mrs. Coughenour we must vacate the premises,”

“Nah, we’re good,” called Roman, coming around the corner with an expression that bordered on amusement, “And I know what got you all worked up,”

He lifted a singed tea bag to eye level.

“Sassafras tea,” he said, “Left it on the stove burner,”

Some kind of barely-contained shudder went through Logan, and he was seriously concerned he was going to crack a tooth from how hard he was gritting his teeth.

“Oh!” said Mrs. Coughenour, “Goodness, dearie, no wonder you’re tense as a whore in church,”

Roman snorted, and Logan felt his ears burn.

“This way, this way,” she said cheerfully.

She went into the kitchen – Roman had turned the ceiling fan and the one above the stove on, as well as opened the window all the way and the back door, though he’d left the screen door shut. Mrs. Coughenour click-clacked her way across the room, and stood up straight to reach for one of the cabinets.

She pulled down an old coffee tin, and waved Logan over.

She popped the lid, and then held out the tin.

Logan looked in.

It was full of candy, but they were wrapped strangely, with squares of what looked like hand-cut wax paper.

“Go on, then!” she encouraged.

Logan gave her a dubious look, but he took one of the candies and unwrapped it.

It was… some kind of caramel, with little gray-ish bits in it. The pieces made him even more hesitant, but it would be rude to refuse her.

He popped the candy in his mouth.

_Floral_, he realized immediately, and then _lavender_, his favorite, and he immediately felt the burning return to his ears.

“Oh, lovely,” said Mrs. Coughenour, “Here take the tin,”

“I- I could not,” said Logan awkwardly.

“Of course you can!” said Mrs. Coughenour brightly, “Consider it an apology for the tea,”

Tension Logan hadn’t even realized he was still carrying bled out of him all at once, so much so that Logan felt suddenly a bit lightheaded. He took the coffee tin.

“That is sufficient,” he said, in a voice he barely recognized as his own.

“Now, go sit in the garden,” she said, “I’ll be out in a minute,”

Still a little dizzy, Logan meekly carried the tin with him out the kitchen door, Roman following him close.

He stepped out the door, and immediately felt like he’d been punched in the face.

By the standards of Wickhills, this was the strangest garden he’d ever seen.

The beds around the back porch were lined with tulips, in every color imaginable. The was a bench further out in the yard, with smaller bed on either side of it overgrown with foxglove. Off to one side was an herb garden, and Logan could smell the rosemary and thyme and lavender even from this distance.

It seemed like everywhere he turned were more flower beds – summer lilac and bright-colored snapdragons, pansies and purple coneflower.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” said Roman beside him, “Didn’t realize Mrs. Coughenour had gone that senile. How is she even alive with all this in her yard?”

Logan didn’t know, and he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to work to respond.

Logan did not like gardens, as a rule. They were normally packed full of things that made him itch and cry, or made his skin break out in hives if he was unfortunate enough to make physical contact.

But.

But _this_ garden.

Something was _singing_ in his, something burning pleasantly under his skin, like standing close to a fire when it was cold or- or being cuddled between all three of his partners at once.

“… Logan?”

Logan turned to Roman, knowing his eyes must have gone wide but otherwise having no clue what kind of expression he was making. Roman gave him a curious look, and then slowly smiled.

“Oh, I see,” he said quietly, “Come on, Specs,”

Roman took him by the hand, walking them in circles through the beds – and it was a good thing he was, because Logan couldn’t seem to even string two words together.

They ended up next to the herb garden, with Logan hesitantly running his fingers over the blossoms. They were going to overgrow the beds if he kept sitting so close, the way they grew towards him, seeking, but he couldn’t bear to move away.

“Found them!”

Mrs. Coughenour came out the back door, and Logan was startled to see she was no longer using her walker. She was standing a little straighter, too and her gaze was clearer – she looked at him, and Logan got the feeling she actually knew who he was this time.

She handed him a tupperware, filled with something blue, and sat on the bench near them.

“Go on then,”

He popped the lid probably a little more eagerly than was necessary, feeling Roman’s fond gaze on him. The container was full of… flowers. Little blue blossoms covered in what looked like sugar. Candied violets.

“I-”

But Logan couldn’t think of anything to say.

“It wasn’t always like this in Wickhills, you know,” said Mrs. Coughenour, sounding a little wistful, “My father used to tell me stories. When the Good Neighbors were just as likely to be friendly as not. Especially if we were friendly first,”

Logan found there was something of a lump in his throat.

“So if you like,” said Mrs. Coughenour, giving Logan a smile that made her look… very pretty, and kind, even with her deep-set wrinkles and snow-white hair. Maybe even because of them, “I would very much like to be your friend, dearie,”

Logan swallowed thickly, nodding, because he still didn’t think he could manage to speak.

“Lovely,” she said, and then she reached over the side of the bench and tapped one of the foxglove blossoms.

It unfolded, and a tiny pink face looked up at Logan.

And another, and then the tulips did as well, and suddenly they were surrounded by dozens of pixies in a shades from pastel to jewel, flitting curiously through the forests of stems, all of them looking at him.

“You are always welcome in my garden, Logan Sanders,” said Mrs. Coughenour.

Smiling up at her, even as his eyes began to spill over, Logan popped another caramel in his mouth.

For a moment, it seemed like the whole world smelled like lavender.

**Author's Note:**

> i am also [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinalsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr!


End file.
